


Before I Couldn't

by wayfared



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-01
Updated: 2013-01-01
Packaged: 2017-11-26 17:23:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 20,818
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/652651
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wayfared/pseuds/wayfared
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Liam will not and cannot fall in love with his cancer patient. Zayn will not and cannot give up. Both seem to happen anyway.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Before I Couldn't

**Author's Note:**

> also posted on my [tumblr](http://liampayneisalesbian.tumblr.com). :) thanks for reading

Liam was relieved. He was so relieved, so happy, to be out of the ER Unit and away from the intern nurses. So happy to not have loads of paperwork to do which was, technically, the head nurse's job. So relieved that he had finally, finally, passed his oncology nurses' exam and gotten his Oncology Nursing Certificate. This was the job he had wanted ever since he was a small child, however morbid that sounded, when one of his aunts had been diagnosed with brain cancer. He had seen the unfriendly nurses, the too-chirpy-too-bright-nurses, and the grump nurses, and decided that if anyone was going to make the cancer ward a friendlier and nicer facility, it was going to be him.  
  
So here he was, stepping foot into the oncology ward of St. Anne's Inpatient Center, and making his way to the locker rooms for his first day as an oncology nurse. He had already received his patient's medical reports and was more than prepared for the day. Liam Payne was going to make this the best facility in all of England, he was going to let his patients know he was there for them, he was going to make the best of this. At twenty years old he was going to the youngest nurse of them all, but that wasn't going to matter. Age didn't matter in this. All he wanted was to make the ward a better place, a friendlier one, one that, as despite the loathing attitude toward it, patients could be at least a little bit joyous to have the nicest staff of England.  
  
Liam stepped into the locker room, greeted by fellow nurses, and started changing into the new scrubs he had bought just for this. His heart raced as he put on his official name tag (Liam Payne, Oncologist Nurse) and slid in his time card to check into his shift. It was long, ten hours a day from half past noon to thirty minutes before midnight seven days a week, but that was okay. He was ready. Nurse Payne was even, he dared to say, exceptionally ready for this.  
  
With his first medical report clutched in his hands, he strode down the hallways, up to the fifth floor, and looked to find room 117. The first patient, a young adult with aggressive leukemia, was waiting behind that door, presumably with family, to meet the nurse who would be taking care of him for the next three months, maybe more. Yeah, Liam thought, he was definitely ready.  


 

He was wearing a hat, a grey beanie, and despite the lack of hair underneath Liam thought it was quite possibly one of the cutest things ever. Overall, actually, he was pretty okay looking. His eyes poked out from underneath and twinkled like he was never diagnosed, never sick. He had a pale look about him – that's what cancer does – but it didn't seem to stunt his spirit and energy, nor did his hospital bed or the catheter port stuck in his chest or the IV line hanging next to him. The boy watched Liam brightly, his positivity almost overwhelming. He tugged his cap down over his forehead and started to sit up and meet the nurse properly. Zayn – that's what it said his name was on the medical report – didn't seem phased by the whole cancer situation at all.  
  
“Well you're looking chipper today,” Liam greeted, sticking out his hand for a shake.  
  
“As always,” Zayn replied, his voice as jubilant as his expression, meeting his hand and shaking it vigorously.  
  
“I'm Nurse Payne, I'll be taking care of you every other week for the evenings. And since our oncology ward is still pretty small, you'll be seeing quite a lot of me.”  
  
“Hey Nurse Payne!” he quipped with a toothy grin. “And I don't mind, as long as you don't like, baby me like the nurse from the last hospital.”  
  
Liam laughed; he liked this kid already. “Don't worry. There will be no babying in this hospital.” Zayn smiled again at that, glad to hear he was in the adult ward, and therefor will be treated as such. “Anyway, Mr. Malik, how are you feeling today”?  
  
“Just call me Zayn, please. I'm doing great, actually. I feel completely fine. I don't know why exactly I'm here.”  
  
“Well, remission for leukemia, especially at your severity, does require a hospital stay. You'll only be for about three months, until maintenance, and after that you're only an outpatient.”  
  
Zayn groaned inwardly. “That sounds like a really long time.”  
  
“But look at the bright side! Afterward, you're cancer free.” He perked up a bit at that, and Liam felt good for being the uplifting nurse he was supposed to be.  
“Zayn, dear, weren't you complaining about that bruise earlier? And not being hungry... Zayn baby, did you eat today?” his mum chirped from the corner of the room. Liam turned to her, surprised by her seemingly random presence. Zayn was quite mature, it was hard to believe he really needed family with him every step of the way. But really, every single patient that comes in does, so it was nothing different. The mom looked, in short, like a complete disaster. She had crazy dark hair(Liam assumed that, once grown out, her son's hair would look quite the same), frantic bloodshot eyes with deep rings, poor posture and what looked like yesterday's outfit on. His mom was hit harder by her son's leukemia than Zayn was himself.  
  
Liam smiled warmly at her and walked over to shake her hand as well. “Common side effects, ma'am. Pleased to meet you. There's nothing to worry about with that, bruising and loss of appetite are common and, with a few drugs, can be easily maintained. And besides, it's kind of a good thing he didn't eat yet today. That was it's easier and better to draw blood, which we need to do as well.” He turned back to Zayn. “Not afraid of needles, are you?”  
“I don't think I've got a choice.”  
  
“True enough,” Liam said a bit quieter, as if the subject had turned slightly wrong, and shrugged. “I'm going to change your IV, draw a bit of a blood sample, then I'll be gone for a few hours to check up on other patients. I'll be back though, and then we can talk about whatever you like to keep you busy. Remember, there's a television, free wireless internet, and a phone if you need to call anyone. The cafeteria is downstairs, plus a snack room down the hall with water if you need it. You need to eat something after the blood drawing, it's not healthy to under eat, especially with leukemia.” Zayn nodded, still grinning brightly, and watched as Liam changed his IV line and scrunched his nose as Liam drew a vial of blood.  
  
“That hurt a bit.”  
  
“You'll get used to it. Really, it's not all that bad. Just a pinprick, nothing more. Now eat, get some rest, and I'll be back in a few. And, Mrs. Malik, I hope everything is alright for you. There's the couch to sit on and also a lounge at the end of this floor. I'll be going now, see you later Zayn!” With a nod and a wave, Nurse Payne was off, half jogging down the hallway towards the next patient, a 40 year old woman with pancreatic cancer. He smiled as he thought back to the grey beanie boy, he had to be the same age, and marveled at the fact he was so optimistic. Just a teenager, barely old enough to stay in the adult ward, and extremely positive about his leukemia, despite the fact it was progressing quickly and – Liam hated to admit it – there was a small chance of making it out of this process alive, or at least fully functional.  
  
Liam pulled out the medical report and grazed over it once more to get a gist of how bad it actually was. What Zayn had, acute lymphocytic leukemia, was rare in adults, yet still fairly curable. However, he had gone into remission seven weeks after starting treatment, a bad sign. Liam bit his lip, not sure what to think, but the boy was just so cool about it all; he made him really want to believe that he would be okay. That he would get to maintenance and that, in two years time, he would still be very much alive.  
  
Only time would tell, really.  


He came back after that, six hours later, to find Zayn sleeping and his mother gone. Liam furrowed his eyebrows; usually family stayed all of the first day, or even week, so he has been told. He cautiously stepped toward the sleeping patient, trying to judge just how asleep he was. It didn't really matter though, because in the end he would have to be woken up anyway to check up on the symptoms.  
  
What Liam saw was not the spirited boy from earlier though. He lay awkwardly, as if broken almost, with a concentrated look about his face. The beanie was still on, pulled down over his eyebrows, and in the setting sunlight Liam could clearly see every feature of his. It was almost breathtaking. The paling boy's strong jaw and cheekbones framed his hollowed eyes, the long eyelashes catching bits of sunlight as it faded from the hospital room. His mouth hung slightly open, all pink lips and white teeth, and allowed for, despite the concentrated expression, a look of vulnerability to overcome him as he slept. He wasn't just okay looking, Zayn was handsome; he was very cute, and extremely attractive. Liam lost his thoughts, just staring blankly, stretching from a few seconds to a couple minutes. He wondered if this officially classified him as a creeper, just staring at someone sleeping. It's not that he was one, but watching Zayn like this, his chest rising and falling in perfect rhythm, was almost mesmerizing.  
  
It was Zayn, not Liam, that woke himself up. Slowly, his eyes cracked open and stared out into blank space, and Liam saw with a start how beautiful those eyes themselves were. Duller than before, lost of some of their twinkle, but still terribly awesome. A dark, deep brown, darker than Liam's own eyes, and Liam thought that one couldn't not get lost in those eyes.  
  
The trance was broken, though, when Zayn croaked out quietly: “Nurse... bucket-”  
  
Liam immediately knew what was going on. This was another side effect to the leukemia treatment. He was prepared, though, and had beforehand set a white bucket unnoticed in the corner of the hospital room. He had known this would happen. Zayn's hand shot up to his mouth, eyes widening, the other hand clutching his stomach. Liam jumped up and grabbed the bucket, steadying it beside the bed and turning away slightly with a scrunched up nose as Zayn vomited, spilling out the contents of his stomach into the container, which wasn't much even to begin with. When he was finished Liam looked back, and saw not at all the shining boy that lay there before, optimistic about his uncertain future, but rather a shattered figure, lost in a sea of sickness, shivering as he lay curled up in the mass of tubes. He looked small, fragile, broken. His eyes, definitely not glowing now, searched the ceiling, the walls, and the floor, anywhere except the caring gaze of his nurse. Liam realized that Zayn did not want him to see him in this state. Zayn was strong, he was supposed to be a worthy opponent in this cancer battle, yet Liam realized that that was anything but on the inside.  
  
“How long have you been here?” the boy asked, arms folded over himself as if begging for a little protection.  
  
“Um, uh, just a few minutes. You seemed too peaceful to wake up,” Liam stuttered, trying desperately not to sound like a huge creeper. “I just came in to check up, take note of your progress, and maybe have a nice chat if you like.”  
  
Zayn nodded yet didn't say anything. He just kept staring at the wall, slowly building up his composure, leaving out the twinkle because what was the use? Liam had already seen him in his terrible state.  
  
Liam shuffled over to the hospital bed and perched himself on the edge, gaze raking Zayn over to look up close how he was fairing at this moment. He looked the same as before, pale with rings under his eyes, but now he'd lost his happy attitude to a more sealed away, angry one. Liam leaned over to grab a tissue and wiped away the vomit from the corners of his mouth for him, then threw it away and took out his medical sheet.  
  
“How are you feeling?” he repeated the mandatory question.  
  
“A little worse. It's always like that when I wake up, though. Thanks for, uh, getting a bucket for me.”  
  
“No worries. That's what I'm here for. And a little worse? How so?”  
  
“My headache's worse now. And I, you know, threw up. Other than that though, I'm okay.”  
  
Liam hummed a bit and took hold of Zayn's chin, forcing him to face the nurse. He felt the lymph nodes on his neck(a little inflamed), prodded at the space below his ribcage(a tiny bit bloated), and checked his arms and legs for red dots or bruises(neither, leave the bruise that his mother mentioned earlier). “Looks like you are indeed doing okay. No fever, only some of inflammation, and a little bit of nausea but that's completely normal. That might also be due to having to adjust to a new environment, and it will lessen in a few weeks. Don't worry.”  
  
Zayn smiled a bit, just a tug at the corners of his lips, and nodded again slightly. “That's good.”  
  
“You're doing okay, Zayn. Soon, you won't even be here. You'll be back home, over the worst of it all and back to a normal life.”  
  
He looked wistful at that statement, gazing off in the corner as if imagining life back home, back with friends and with family and maybe schooling, even. Back to normal. “I hope so.”  
  
Liam cracked a smile and poked at the boy's ribs. “Hey, where's optimistic Mr. Malik that I saw only a few hours back? Of course you're going to get out of here! You're strong, no matter what. We'll fight through this, you and me. Patient and nurse, eh? How does that sound?”  
  
“Sounds... swell,” Zayn giggled, batting away Liam's hand. He grinned, genuinely grinned, and settled back again onto the elevated hospital bed.  
  
“Where's your mum, by the way?” Liam questioned, glancing around.  
  
“Oh, her? She left not too long ago, something about my sister's dance recital. Figures, actually, that she would leave me for her.”  
  
“Oh, okay.” Liam didn't press the issue, not wanting to interfere. The last part was said in a whispered tone, as if not really supposed to be put out there, but just was. “I have to go clean out your bucket, actually. But I'll be right back and we can talk about whatever you want, or just watch some television if you like. I don't have another patient to look after for another half hour, so I can just stay here for the time being.”  
  
“I'd like that.”  
  
Liam grinned and backed out of the room, disgusting smelling bucket in hand, and strode quickly to the sinks to get it rinsed out. He tried not to think too much about Zayn on the way there, but what he had said worried him a bit. Maybe that was just the maternal instincts he knew he had. He tried not to let it get to him.  
  
And when he came back Zayn was sitting cross-legged in the bed, flicking through channels on the television. He puckered his lips as the channels went by, and his eyes flashed to Liam for a moment. “What do you want to watch?”  
  
“It's your choice,” he replied, shrugging his shoulders, and pulled up a plastic chair to the side of Zayn's bed. The television stopped on an episode of Doctor Who, a scene of what looked like a minotaur stomping down a hallway. Liam personally didn't watch the show, but it seemed like Zayn must enjoy it a lot.  
  
“This is a really good episode. I love the part with the sad clown,” he said, muttered as if not directly at Liam but more just to the air, the surrounding space.  
  
“Why's the clown sad?”  
  
Zayn knit his eyebrows in thought. “Because someone is afraid of sad clowns.”  
  
“But why sad specifically? Why not scary, or angry?”  
  
“I don't know. Should I know? Whoever is afraid of sad clowns is afraid of sad clowns-” he stopped to chuckle; for what Liam didn't know why “-and that's not for you to judge, Nurse Payne.”  
  
Liam laughed right back, settling back into his uncomfortable chair. The episode was already more than half over, coming closer to the big battle at the end – although for Liam, who had never even seen Doctor Who, everything was just complete nonsense. Genetics seemed to make more sense than this show.  
  
“Have you ever watched Doctor Who?”  
  
“Nah, I'm not much of a TV show guy. I do more just movies, like Toy Story.”  
  
“Toy Story?”  
  
“Don't judge!”  
  
“I'm not judging! It's just... not what I expected. Whatever, we all have different tastes.” Zayn glanced over at him with a small smile, and without meaning to, Liam blushed and bit hit lip, breaking their gaze and looking down to his shoes. He realized within seconds that that was a little girl's move, but wow Zayn's smile was really exceptionally nice. And the show was definitely not Toy Story, but anything was okay watching with Z-  
  
The pager on his waistband beeped, signaling him to the 40 year old pancreatic cancer patient. “Shit, sorry Zayn but I have to excuse myself. There's an emergency over with Mrs. Jones.” Liam jumped up from his chair and rushed towards the door, catching the frame to propel himself forward. On second thoughts, he backpedaled, ducking his head back into hospital room. Zayn was still staring after him, and Liam noticed the before twinkle had returned in his eyes. “We ought to watch Toy Story together sometime, yeah? To keep you occupied?”  
  
The beanie boy grinned at that, all teeth and glee, and nodded fervently. “Yeah, I'd like that.”  
  
“Great! Get some rest, and call me if you need anything. See you later Mr. Malik!”  
  
“Just call me Zayn!” Zayn called after him, but Liam was already gone, sprinting down the hallway and towards whatever Mrs. Jones' emergency was. It better be important(and it was, seeing as this was the cancer ward, after all).  


The rest of the week went by quite quickly, much to Liam's surprise. Mrs. Jones was doing well again, moved to the isolation room, and the rest of his patients were cruising along and doing great. He kept up with their symptoms, checking regularly to see if there were any changes, and much to his gratefulness there were none. Only a slight fever in his brain cancer patient, but antibiotics would just take care of that.  
  
It was Saturday, nearing midnight, at the end of Liam's shift. The next week he was completely off work, free to do whatever he pleased. Of course Liam, always being ever so careful, would keep his phone at close hand in case they needed him. He mostly worried about Zayn, how he would cope, but if the last week had anything to say it would be perfectly fine. Besides, he was in caring hands of the alternate week's oncologist nurses: Harry and Louis. Liam had only met them once or twice, but they seemed like nice lads and Liam was sure they would take good care of him.  
  
Liam was leaning over Zayn's bed, pulling down his cap – a green one today – and making sure everything was alright for Nurse Styles. The IV had been changed, he had taken his sponge bath, and he had eaten his dinner - with a lot of bribery from Liam. “You'll be alright yeah?”  
  
“But why can't you just have every week to be my nurse?”  
  
Liam grinned. “I need my vacations too! Believe it or not, being a nurse is a very hard job and I don't know how I even do it. You're a hassle, Zayn-”  
  
“No I'm not!”  
  
“I guess you aren't, but even so, it's hard. I've got to get my beauty sleep, you know?”  
  
“Yeah I guess,” Zayn sighed, leaning back into his propped up pillows. “Are next week's nurses gonna be as good as you and Nurse Horan?”  
  
“I'm one hundred percent sure of it. They're going to take care of you very well, I promise you.”  
  
Zayn nodded in approval, mulling it over.  
  
“Also, don't forget you have chemotherapy Monday. Nurse Tomlinson will administer it to you, so be sure to be nice to him.”  
  
“Well, duh. My next chemo better have you as nurse though.”  
  
Liam suppressed a smile and glanced down at his shoes, pretending not to be entirely flattered. “I'll make sure to mention that to the head nurse, okay?”  
  
“Good.”  
  
“Remember to be kind, remember to eat, and remember to tell all of what you're experiencing to the nurses. Don't act like a macho strong guy with that – not that you aren't! - it unbalances everything.”  
  
“Yeah yeah, you've told me all this five times already.”  
  
“That's because you keep asking.”  
  
“Do not!”  
  
“Do too!” Liam's gaze flickered to the mounted wall clock hanging opposite him, checking the time. It was five past eleven thirty, time to end his shift unless he wanted to work even more unnecessary hours. “Okay, I have to leave. I'll be back next week, and you tell me how your first chemotherapy went, eh? Don't get too attached to the nurses, I'm still better than them.”  
  
Zayn giggled at that remark, but nodded in agreement. “Got it.”  
  
“Get some rest! Bye Zayn, see you!”  
  
“See ya Nurse Payne!”  
  
Liam rushed to the locker room with an unwanted smile tugging at his lips. Zayn was, by far, his favorite patient of the four he was assigned. Cheerful and optimistic, always with a grin and a twinkle in those beautiful brown eyes. And when Liam saw him at his weakest, it was almost heartbreaking, but Zayn always pulled through those moments, sitting up moments later with a brighter expression and the suggestion to surf the internet watching hilarious cat videos. He was, without fail, the most uplifting man in the ward.  
  
Lifting his scrubs up and over his shoulders, Liam thought to the week ahead. It would be empty, he decided, without a bit of Zayn to cheer him up here and there. Of course he had his own friends to hang out with, and he had grown closer to the morning nurse, Niall; they had exchanged phone numbers so it was likely they would hang out this week. But without caring for the beanie boy, Liam didn't know what his afternoons would consist of. TV, a bit of solitaire and several servings of junk food? It was kind of weird, but in a week Liam had become a tad attached to the patient. He was cute, he was genuine, and never minded a good conversation or two. And he didn't want to admit it, but Liam worried how the other two nurses would handle him. He hoped they would be great, and take care of him well, even superbly. Zayn was worth it, in Liam's mind. He was definitely worth putting aside an extra hour of downtime just to talk to him and keep watch, especially when his family was not there. It was important to keep the patients entertained, and it was equally important to Liam to make sure Zayn, his favorite – and he hated to pick favorites – patient was kept busy and well fed and rested, etc. etc. etc.  
  
That being said, Liam also completely ignored the fact that it was Zayn, a cancer patient. It was Zayn, with acute leukemia. Zayn, whose health was going straight downhill from here.  


When Liam came back the next week Zayn was asleep again, his mother at the foot of his bed fiddling with a loose string of the hospital blanket. He could see the faint tear tracks down her face and the downcast red rimmed eyes, her messy black hair pulled back loosely in a ponytail. She was extremely tired, stressed, and hurt by the situation, Liam could tell that much.  
  
Liam stood on the other side of the bed, and for a moment neither said a word as they watched the steady rise and fall of Zayn's chest. He looked quite peaceful, lit up vibrantly in the midday light, the curtains drawn to let more in.  
  
“So,” Liam said after a second, clearing his throat, “how was Zayn this week?”  
  
  
“He was... good, I guess. Got a slight fever, so Nurse Styles had to prescribe him some antibiotics, but he took the chemo pretty well and was... good.”  
  
That was good to hear, that Zayn was fairing pretty well. He looked quite the same, eyes sunken but the same as before. He arms lay perfectly still by his sides, no tremors. It was all progressing well.  
  
“That's very good to hear. I like the sound of that. White blood cell count still the same?” He flipped through the most recent medical report and skimmed it quickly. Yup, around the same. Liam smiled; by how this was going, Zayn was going to make it out of here with minimal treatment.  
  
“He kept- he kept asking for you. In his sleep, you know,” she said suddenly, yanking the thread out of the covers. Liam glanced over, taken back by the statement. Asking for him? Why on earth would he do that? Despite the odd gesture though, it made Liam feel warm. He filled with nervous glee. Him, he was calling for him. Not Niall, or Louis or Harry, him. Even though he was off for the week.  
  
“Oh, wow, um. Why?”  
  
“I don't know. Just kept calling out Payne over and over.”  
  
“That might have just been him saying he was in pain, though. It makes more sense...”  
  
Mrs. Malik pursed her lips, eyes still lowered and focused on the rhythmic breathing of her son. “That could be it,” she muttered. Liam nodded slightly, reverting his gaze from her to Zayn, the only other capturing thing in the room.  
  
His mom sighed after a few more minutes, rubbing her face vigorously with her hands, and stepped away from the bed. “I'll be back tomorrow, I guess. I've got to watch his sisters, they're probably wondering where I am.”  
  
“I'll take good care of him, Mrs. Malik. Don't worry.”  
  
She nodded but didn't give him a second glance as she shuffled out of the room. “As always.”  
  
Mrs. Malik was an odd character, Liam thought. She never seemed fully attached to reality, too drawn back with her various problems – most of which included Zayn's leukemia. She was strong, just like her son, but dealt with everything much differently. There was no optimism in her features, only stress. Mrs. Malik was a painting of her emotions, she never needed to use a coverup.  
  
Liam leaned over the hospital bed, studying Zayn for a moment before he woke him up. He looked quite the same as last week, same beanie, same chapped lips, same eyelashes. He was still the same beanie boy, hadn't been hit with anything the past seven days. Liam almost sighed in relief. For reasons unknown, he was extremely glad Zayn was on the same course to health.  
  
He reached out a finger and prodded the sleeping boy in the chest, attempting to wake him up with minimal disturbances. “Hey, Zayn, wake up. It's time to change your IV bag.”  
  
Zayn's eyelids shot open at the sound of Liam's voice. A suppressed smile lit up his face and he stared at Liam with wide eyes, the dull cancer gaze mixing with exuberance over Liam's presence. “Nurse Payne! You're back!”  
  
Liam grinned back. “I am.” Straightening up, Liam brought a metal rolling tray closer to his side and started unhooking the IV bag. “How was your week?”  
  
“It was okay. I mean, the nurses were nice. Tomlinson was funny,” Zayn said thoughtfully, chewing on his lip as he watched Liam exchange the empty bag for a full one and throwing the remnants onto the tray. Pushing it away, Liam sat down on the edge of Zayn's bed and peered into his eyes.  
  
“Symptoms still the same?” He did the usual routine, checking the lymph nodes(a little more inflamed then last time), asked for headaches(“Every single second,” Zayn had groaned), and checked the skin for red dots(there were some on his lower left arm). “All in all, still doing good.”  
  
Zayn's grin got wider as he heard that. “See? I am going to get better.”  
  
“Who said you weren't?” Liam replied, laughing. He tugged playfully at the edge of Zayn's cap and smiled again at the blush that spread across Zayn's face as he shied away from the touch. The gesture was terribly cute, in his opinion.  
  
Zayn shrugged. “I guess you're right.”  
  
“You still have that positive attitude, right? It's gotta be in there!”  
  
“I'm still positive! I swear, I'm getting out of here in three months and I'm going to get way better. You can bet on it.”  
  
“I am. Counting the days until I walk you out of here,” Liam laughed. “Anyway, how did the chemotherapy go?”  
  
“It was okay, I guess. Kind of hurt, I felt a bit dizzy the entire time, but Nurse Tomlinson explained it all to me and walked me through it,” he paused for a second, probably reviewing his memories of the hours of chemotherapy. “But it would have been better if you were the one doing it.” This part was a bit quieter, as if Zayn didn't really want to say it but felt he had to.  
  
Liam looked down at his plain white hospital sneakers and blushed slightly. “Styles is a capable guy, he can do pretty much anything. I'm very sure you were in good hands.”  
  
“No, I mean-” the boy stopped himself, rethinking what he was going to say. “I mean I'd just... like it if you were there. As I said before, you're my favorite nurse right?”  
  
Liam nodded, trying to ignore a feeling quite like butterflies in the pit of his stomach. “Thanks, I guess?”  
  
“You better take it as a compliment!”  
  
“Well, I'll definitely be the one giving you chemo next time okay? I'll make sure of that.”  
  
A slightly dreamy look replaced itself on Zayn's features; he definitely enjoyed that idea. “I'd like that.”  
  
Seconds passed before either said anything, just staring at each other. It should have been a bit uncomfortable, seeing that Liam was a nurse and Zayn was his patient, but for some odd reason, it wasn't. Liam broke the hold first, choosing instead to look at the ground with an extended level of interest. “Did you eat at all today?”  
“Yeah, Mum made me.”  
  
“Was it enough?”  
  
“I don't know. Is a bowl of cereal enough?”  
  
Liam frowned. “Not really. Do you want me to go fetch you some vegetables from the cafeteria or something? You need your energy most of all.”  
  
“Sure, I guess,” Zayn said, shrugging. The nurse pushed himself off the bed immediately, making his way to the door. “Uh, and a pudding cup?”  
  
Liam chuckled but answered sure. Pudding cups were okay to have, and really, it was quite funny he asked. Of all things, a pudding cup for heaven's sake. He shook his head heartily as he walked down the hallway towards the elevator, and down the computer. Zayn's last sentence was so innocent, so childlike. Despite being in the adult oncology ward, the beanie boy was still very much a teenager, unfairly fighting for his life in a stupid old hospital. Barely nineteen, the medical report said, and already facing possible death.  
  
It was something no one should experience, Liam thought as he pulled a chocolate and vanilla cup onto the food tray. No one, especially Zayn, should have to whittle their life away in a dull white hospital room, waiting and waiting and waiting for a cure. Waiting to get out, to breath the fresh air. Just, just waiting. Waiting, it seemed, for life to just end right there.  
  
Not Zayn though. Zayn on the outside was tough, he was optimistic, he knew what it took to survive out there on the battle field. Zayn on the outside was a beautiful, strong boy, ready to head in and fight those uncompleted blood cells, ready to rid himself of this cancer plaguing his body. Liam liked Zayn on the outside, he like the bright airiness that always seemed to fill the room when he woke up, changing the entire atmosphere from drab to exciting.  
And even though he had only witnessed it a handful of times, Zayn on the inside was just as gorgeous. His true self, not the shell he had created, wasn't as optimistic, but still seemed to glow. At the lowest point of the day, he had lost the twinkle in his eye but not the usual spark that seemed to brighten the sun itself and kept his skin from turning blue. Zayn on the inside was broken, devastated at his terrifying leukemia and situation, but Zayn on the inside still remembered how to hold on. And for that, Liam was forever grateful.  
  
He didn't exactly know why, didn't know at all, why he was grateful. Cancer was natural, patients would come and go, he knew that. They warned him during classes for his oncology nurse certificate. “If you do not like to deal with death more often than not, please get out of this class.” Zayn though, Zayn Malik, his first patient, seemed to be a world of difference from that. He was going to live, he wasn't going to die. He couldn't, Liam just wouldn't allow it. No matter what the leukemia said, he was going to make sure Zayn would walk out of this hospital on two feet, maybe even with Liam guiding his way.  
  
Zayn was different, and Liam was ashamed to say he was getting attached to the lad. It wasn't good, but Zayn he could tell, Zayn was going to make it. There couldn't, there shouldn't, Liam was going to make sure there wouldn't, be any other way.  


Zayn was shoved over to one side of his tiny hospital bed, with Liam beside him, knees pulled up to his chest and shoes kicked off onto the linoleum floor. He ate his pudding cup slowly and concentrated on the television screen, watching an old rerun of the series Law and Order: SVU. “Mariska Hargitay could get it,” he said nonchalantly, licking the lid clean of extra pudding.  
  
Liam laughed. “Really?”  
  
“No doubt about it. She's fit.”  
  
“Eh, not really my type,” he shrugged. Zayn tilted his head in question, gaze switching from the screen to Liam.  
  
“Come one, she's everyone's type,” he argued.  
  
Liam shrugged again. “Not mine.”  
  
“Well then what is? I can't imagine anything else.”  
  
“Mm,” he paused for a few seconds, mulling it over. Did Liam even have a type? He wasn't really sure. “I don't really know. Haven't thought about it. Kind of busy with, you know, nursing people.”  
  
Zayn smirked and leaned back on his elbows, setting the empty cup aside. “Wouldn't happen to like bald leukemia patients would you?”  
  
Liam laughed, knowing this was another of Zayn's jokes. He was always cracking jokes at Liam about this type of stuff, whatever the conversation was. He knew he was kidding though, because this was definitely not the time or place for that type of behavior.  
  
The look though, on Zayn's face when Liam caught his eye, seemed to tell a different story. Liam stopped abruptly, catching the – was that a sort of hope? - look and realizing that, even though it was a joke, he was in a way quite serious. Liam didn't know what to think about that. “Like I said before, I never really thought about it.”  
  
Zayn nodded slowly, turning back to the television screen and replacing his weird expression with a goofy smile. “You should,” he said, and Liam knew that one was the joke.  
  
He smiled back, rolling his shoulders in mock consideration, and giggled a bit. “Maybe I will. But who knows? I could figure out that all I really like are people with hair.”  
They both cracked up at that one(even though it wasn't that funny at all).  
  
It was only some time later when the room was quiet, leave for the television turned down in the background, and Zayn was fast asleep once again. He lay, squished against the rail of his hospital bed, arms crossed and sporting an immensely tired face. Liam hoped he wasn't being creepy again, though he had stared at Zayn more times than he was willing to admit as he slept. He just looked so... peaceful, so full of youth and yet so old and it was so complex. He, in general, was an intriguing person and Liam just couldn't help himself. And Zayn, Liam had thought multiple times, was absolutely beautiful when he slept. The weariness seemed to slip off his face. His beanie, still green like an olive, tugged down over his forehead and around his ears. It gave him the childish look and his mouth hung open slightly, and he was just so cute that Liam couldn't help but stare. Even without his hair, no one on this entire earth, he felt, could disagree.  
  
He finally lifted himself off the bed a little later, needing to check up on his other patients. Liam sighed as he slipped his tennies back on, rolled the metal tray to the back of the room, and checked the IV line one last time. He glanced back at Zayn as he shuffled reluctantly out of the room, leaving the television still on quietly, and tried to remember the image. The boy, tucked up against the side of the bed, his blue hospital gown scrunching a bit at the shoulders and lips slightly ajar. Liam's heart almost landed in his throat, the same thought of Zayn is gorgeous, wow, running through his mind over and over again, though he honestly didn't know why. Maybe it was just him being the appreciator of all things pretty, maybe it was something else. He didn't really want to think about it. Either way, it sure wasn't professional. He was a nurse, Zayn was a patient, it wasn't healthy to think such thoughts.  
  
Liam sighed. He really couldn't help it, as much as he tried. Listening to his soothing voice and soaking in his beautiful features, he realized, was probably a habit that was going to become regular.  


“Did I ever show you what I looked like with hair?” Zayn asked.  
  
It was Wednesday, halfway through the week, and Liam was leaning over the beanie boy and checking his neck for enlarged lymph nodes. “No I don't think so,” he said, frowning a bit. “Your visitors have been washing their hands before they go in here, right?”  
  
“Of course they do. I just-”  
  
“Have they been wearing face masks?”  
  
“No? I'm not that bad, I'm not in isolation.”  
  
Liam nodded slowly, lifting up Zayn's arm to feel for the lymph nodes underneath. Swollen, very swollen. Liam scribbled it down on his clipboard with one hand, the other still wrapped around Zayn's wrist.  
  
“Any joint pain?”  
  
“Yeah, in my knees. That could just be because I'm laying all the time though?”  
  
“Could be... any new bruises?”  
  
“No, but my gums keep bleeding whenever I eat something like chips or whatever.”  
  
“I see. Fevers?”  
  
“Nah, the antibiotics took care of that, remember?”  
  
“Of course, now I remember.”  
  
Zayn paused, regarding Liam cautiously. “Is something wrong?”  
  
“No! No, nothing's wrong,” Liam assured, “it's just acting up a little bit more than yesterday. That's completely fine, though, as it's only been two and a half weeks since your chemo started. You're doing swell. I was just a bit worried.” He patted Zayn's cheek and smiled, setting the clipboard aside. Reaching for the IV line, he saw Zayn wasn't quite convinced. “Hey, you're on the right track, okay? Don't worry about it, you're doing really great.”  
  
Zayn didn't answer, only lay back down on his bed and stared at the ceiling. Once Liam exchanged the IV bags, he perched himself on his usual spot next to the boy and they just sat in silence for a few moments, not sure what to do.  
  
“What was that about your hair?”  
  
“Oh, I was just asking if I had ever shown it to you. I mean, I don't have it anymore, it's just weird to look back on it now and realize that it's all gone... Sorry, it sounds really stupid now. Forget I ever said that.”  
  
“Nothing's stupid, Zayn. Unless you like, got a first grade math problem wrong, nothing's stupid. And that's normal for someone like you. Why did you ask, though?”  
  
“I don't know, I just – I miss it. Is that weird? Like it's just hair. I'm not going to lie though, I had pretty awesome hair.”  
  
“It'll grow back, you know it. What did it look like?”  
  
“Black hair, like my mom's. I always had it styled into a quiff, you know what that is right?”  
  
“Of course I do! I've got a degree, I better know what a simple hair style is.”  
  
Zayn suppressed a smile. “True enough. And the funny thing is that I got a part of it dyed blonde like a week before I discovered I had leukemia. Kind of a waste, although it certainly was cool looking.”  
  
Liam tried to picture Zayn with a full head of hair, but he was so used to the beanie he couldn't quite do it. “Got any pictures?”  
  
“Um, not with me. My mum took home the pictures yesterday, something about showing grandma or whatever.”  
  
The nurse tried not to look disappointed, and not just because he was most likely even more gorgeous with his hair, but because the pictures probably showed a more lively side to Zayn. Not that he wasn't lively here, Liam would've loved to see him in his 'natural habitat'. He wanted to laugh at that thought though, because he was perfectly content with how Zayn acted here. Still cute and optimistic, he was sure nothing would change at home.  
  
“I bet you looked gorgeous with your hair,” he said offhandedly, suppressing the shy smile that tugged at his lips. Zayn blushed, ducking his head a little and avoiding eye contact. Belatedly, Liam realized it almost sounded like he wasn't gorgeous now. “I mean not that you're not gorgeous now-” was he hitting on his patient? Liam wasn't quite sure. He was the one blushing now, turning to stare at the floor. “I mean-”  
  
“Thanks, I guess,” Zayn interrupted, and Liam was eternally grateful he didn't have to continue elaborating. “You're not half bad yourself.”  
  
Liam giggled, the kind of giggle a thirteen year old girl would produce, and immediately cursed himself. Liam was not a prepubescent teenager, and he had no idea why he even did that. It was normal to compliment people, they did that all the time. What was it about Zayn that made a difference?  
  
Before Liam could say anything else, the pager on his side beeped furiously. He sighed, jumping from the bed and running for the door. “Please excuse me, there's an emergency down a floor.”  
  
Zayn shook his head. “No, it's fine. Talk to me later, all right?”  
  
“Do I have a choice?”  
  
Zayn just chuckled, not saying anything as Liam sprinted away from his hospital room.  


It was getting worse – the symptoms. More swelling of the lymph nodes, more paling and more pinpricks until Liam couldn't even tell if Zayn was tan anymore, and Zayn was asleep more and awake less but Liam could see he's not that peaceful anymore. He hadn't said it yet, he's too proud, but Zayn was in pain. It was hitting him now, after trying to suppress it all, how bad this whole cancer thing really was.  
  
Acute lymphocytic leukemia, a rare form of leukemia, was aggressive and even though most still live there are some who don't. Some who, like Zayn, had gone into remission weeks after the allotted 'safe zone' and had smaller and smaller chances of making it with everything else piling on top. And the “everything else” part is less of a small mound and more of a large hill now, and getting bigger as the chances get smaller. And it broke Liam's heart, it really did, to see Zayn realizing that, maybe, he might not make it through this after all. It hurt him to see Zayn still being optimistic about the whole ordeal, if only so he didn't look like a fool in front of family. Whenever they came by, that is.  
  
“I'm still going to make it you know,” Zayn said Saturday, eyes cast down as he played with the loose threads of the hospital bed sheets. “I have to, I was accepted into college. I've got to go get a job and get educated and maybe find a girl and get some kids and – I've got to grow old, Nurse Payne. It's on my bucket list.”  
  
Liam nods and swallows the lump that's formed in his throat. It feels like a tumor. Zayn was a tumor. “I know that. I'm making sure of it. We've got everything under control, Zayn. Don't worry, you're going to finish that bucket list.”  
  
Zayn didn't say anything, just pulled the threads out one by one. Liam could see it in his eyes, though, that he was grateful for the words of reassurance. He believed, genuinely believed, that his nurse was going to make it get better. Liam would save him and everything is going to get better. And Liam wanted to believe it too. But as much as he wants to, it was never really in his hands. A nurse helps it along, but the leukemia is really in control of it all.  
  
And Liam wanted, with all his heart, for the beanie boy to pull through. He really did. Maybe it was peculiar for a nurse to care so much for his patient at this degree, but he didn't care at this point. He just wanted to be the one to walk Zayn out of this stupid hospital and the one to check up on him when he comes back during maintenance, the one who told him that the cancer is one hundred percent benign.  
  
“I'll make sure if it,” he repeated, just for good measure. But he wasn't sure if he exactly could. If it would help his confidence, though, he would say it.  
  
Before Zayn can open his mouth to say a single word, there's a shuffling feet behind Liam. He snapped his gaze up from the bed and brightens instantly, no longer the solemn Zayn but the bright, optimistic one. Liam's heart lifted immediately – Zayn seemed to have that effect on him.  
  
Liam turned around to see a new face in the doorway, a young one with brown hair and a cute, puppy-like face. He was short, shorter than Zayn would be if he was standing up, and looked terribly happy.  
  
“Josh!” Zayn cried, throwing his arms up in glee. 'Josh' cracked a huge smile and raced over to the bed.  
  
“Zayny, I'm so sorry I didn't come earlier. It hasn't been bad, right? I mean, leaving you all alone for like forever. I should have flown over right when I heard you were in the hospital. I'm so sorry, I just had meetings and it was really important and-” he was cut off by Zayn's light laugh and pulled into a massive hug. The two stayed like that for a few long moments, just breathing in the other. And when they finally pulled away Zayn's eyes shone, almost as much as the first day he was here.  
  
“S'okay Josh, I know it was important. Don't get your panties in a bunch over it,” Zayn laughed, patting Josh on the back.  
  
“So how are you? How's this whole cancer thing?”  
  
Zayn hesitated for a moment, then shrugged. His gaze flickered to Liam for a moment, as if asking for help. “Um, good I guess. It's... cancer.”  
  
Josh nodded, breathing in deeply as he took in the sight of pale Zayn and his sunken in cheeks and weak stature. Liam knew that the last time he saw his friend was when he was healthy, so this was probably a big change. Going from a confident boy to someone who was still quite confident, but in contrast extremely weak.  
  
“You're looking good mate,” Josh said, patting him on the shoulder. He pulled up a chair and sat down next to the bed, elbows resting on the sheets. “Gonna be out of here in no time.”  
  
Zayn smiled, thankful of the comment. “Sure hope so.”  
  
There was silence for a few moments, silence that Liam knew he shouldn't be a part of. He felt like he was intruding something, something just between the other two boys. Zayn and his friend probably needed some alone time, for Josh to get accustomed to the situation and for Zayn to catch up with the times outside the hospital room. He awkwardly scuffled over to the bed and picked up his clipboard from the edge of it, making his way to the door before they could say anything.  
  
“Hey wait, where are you going?” Zayn called after him. Surprised, Liam swiveled around to find the beanie boy looking at him questioningly, as he if had expected him to stay and meet the newcomer.  
  
“I'm just – I've got to go check up on Ms. Jones, she um, needs to have some exams done.” He stumbled over his words, felt his face reddening, and turned to leave.  
  
“Don't you want to meet my mate? He flew over from New York, don't think he came for nothing.”  
  
Josh giggled, playfully punching the boy. There was a tug in Liam's chest, he shouldn't be doing that, Zayn gets easily bruised. Liam ignored it, dismissing the feeling as irrational.  
  
“Um, sure. Just for a few moments. But then I really have to go.” Actually, he could spare ten more minutes.  
  
Zayn grinned, motioning Liam over again. “Payne, this is Josh, my best friend. Josh, this is Nurse Payne, the guy who takes care of me some of the time. He's my um, nurse.”  
  
“Hey mate, how's it going?” Josh greeted, sticking his hand out for a shake. Liam took it warily, like he still felt he was intruding on something special.  
“Going good, yeah. Your friend here's difficult to take care of though.”  
  
Zayn's mouth dropped in mock anger. “Am not!” His expression held fake disgust, but Liam could tell he wasn't offended at all. He was just being Zayn, too proud to be put down, even as a joke. “And if I was you certainly haven't minded up until now.”  
  
Liam chuckled. “Kidding, Zayn, you know that. You're a bundle of joy.” He tugged at Zayn's cap lightheartedly, easing the tension that seemed only he felt. Zayn reciprocated with throwing his hand off and smiling shyly, giggling at the gesture.  
  
“Of course I am.”  
  
“Anyway, I've got to fly. Jones' is looking to take a turn for the worst and I have to bid on her every move – don't tell anyone I said that.” The last part was said quieter, with his index finger to his lips and looking around as if there might be security cameras placed in the room. “It was nice to meet you, Josh. I expect you're coming around again, yeah?”  
  
“Didn't come here for nothing, did I? See you around Nurse Payne,” Josh said, waving a tiny goodbye.  
  
“Come back later and watch more Doctor Who with me,” Zayn asked.  
  
“Always will,” Liam answered, because he always did, and left the room with Zayn's jubilant expression still engrained in his mind.  
  
The last thing he heard coming from the hospital room was Josh, whispering quietly “So you got the hots for your nurse, eh?”  
  
He stumbled a bit, definitely not expecting that particular sentence to be uttered anytime, and he suddenly became quite aware of the red heat rising up his neck and the frantic heartbeat that followed the simple question.  
  
Except it wasn't that simple. It wasn't that complicated either, there wasn't much to say about it. Just asking if Zayn happened to fancy the evening nurse. The complicated thing was that Liam never heard his answer.  


Liam knows his answer though. Not then, no way. He's too sensible for that. He knows four weeks later, four weeks of taking care of Zayn on and off. He knows when he hits the sheets of his own bed that night, facing the next week without him. He knows when he can't sleep, the only thing running through his mind is Zayn, Zayn's medical records, Zayn's gorgeous face.  
  
Zayn, Zayn, Zayn. It's not normal for a nurse to think so much of his patient. He knows that too. They even said specifically during his training for becoming a nurse, the professor said not to become attached to the patient. Liam understood why, he recognizes the reasons why they said this. The patient might die, might leave better and never give you contact again. There were so, so many factors that went into this that Liam didn't even want to consider. It was far too scary.  
  
But he knew, he knew that night. As his head hit the pillow, he did realize what was going on with him. Why he liked a little too much the moments when Zayn smiled, why there was a little too long of a pause between sentences where Liam just liked to stare at the beanie boy, and why he took a little longer caring for Zayn than his other patients. Why he always looked forward to watching the telly with him, lying side by side in the tiny hospital bed only technically made for one.  
  
It's a bad realization, one he doesn't really want to make. It's been in the back of his mind for quite a while now, over the last month growing closer and closer to the boy. Building up until Liam couldn't even not consider it an option. The downsides that come with it outweigh the good ones, yet at this point, when he does realize, those downsides could be the size of the earth – and might as well be – and he wouldn't give a single care. He wouldn't care until the time actually came, and hopefully it wouldn't.  
  
It was simple, really. He liked Zayn. He really, really liked Zayn. As stupid as that sounded, Liam did. He liked the way Zayn's eyes shone despite their cancer ridden dullness; he liked the way the boy slept with a concentrated look on his face, mouth hanging open and eyebrows knit together as if thinking hard about something nobody else would ever know about; he especially liked the dreamy look he got on his face as he watched his favorite television shows, the look of glazed over eyes and a wistful tone whenever he spoke. Zayn didn't know that he watched him like that, and that was probably a good thing because Liam most likely looked like a lovesick puppy during those moments. It was best Zayn didn't know about that, he would tease him until the end of civilization.  
  
He liked Zayn's gorgeous features, he liked how his beanie changed every week into a new one a member of his family had knitted for him, he liked the optimistic attitude he wore despite the terrible circumstances. He liked the way he bit his lip when he shied away at something Liam had said, he liked the way his eyebrows hitched up a bit whenever his mom did something slightly idiotic, and he liked the way he blinked when confused, like an oversized, sleepy puppy. And Liam especially liked the way Zayn reached for his arm and tightly curled his fingers around it, reeling him back towards him as he made to leave because there were only a few minutes left of this episode and the ending was interesting, just watch.  
  
He liked Zayn. That was that. The tiny things about him and the cute things about him and just, in general, him. It was blissful, almost, a huge relief to finally come to the realization and not hold it off any longer. The realization, however, came with complications. Complications he didn't want to go over, not just yet. But he knew, he absolutely knew, what they were. They didn't need to be said aloud, the fears were there anyway.  


 

Zayn was two months in now, two months of chemotherapy and hospitalization. Liam would love to say he's getting better, but the truth was far from it. He hasn't changed his beanie in two weeks, the fibers getting matted and the edges a bit frayed. It's like he'd forgotten to, or that it didn't matter anymore. Liam couldn't tell which.  
  
It was around nine pm., Zayn was half asleep on his side of the bed as the television blares on, showing some episode of a series neither are interested in. Liam has his arm is around his shoulder, the beanie boy's head resting against his. It was probably wrong to be in this close of a proximity with his patient, but it was also Zayn, not just any patient, and Liam didn't give a care anymore. He liked it, liked being here with his side pressed up against Zayn's as he lazily watched the screen, dreamy look washed away with a more tired one. He would never get used to this, he thought. It was a really nice place to be.  
  
It was quiet, save for the television, almost so quiet you could hear a pin drop. The other patients in the ward were most likely asleep, seeing as it was late and they were all tired due to disease. Liam smiles into the television light, wishing they could stay like this forever. Just the two of them, jammed close together on a twin bed, more or less tired than the other.  
  
That's when Liam heard it. A soft sound, the hitching of one's breath, right beside him. He directed his gaze from the screen to Zayn's face and found it glistening, not by the bright eyes but rather silent tear tracks traipsing down his cheeks.  
  
“Zayn, you okay?” Liam whispers, shuffling up the bed to get a better view of the patient. Zayn didn't answer, only closing his eyes tightly as his breath hitches again. “Zayn-”  
  
“Am I gonna die, Payne?” Zayn asked. It's sudden, not what Liam expected. “Am I even going to make it?”  
  
“I-”  
  
“I mean, I've seen the reports. I know I'm getting worse and I don't think I can be so positive anymore. I throw up like four times a day now because I can't hold anything down, I haven't gotten out of bed in forever, and it's hard to concentrate on anything because I'm so damn tired all the time. It doesn't feel like I'm getting better, Nurse Payne, it doesn't feel like a-anything.” Zayn can barely finish the sentence before he started crying, shoulders shaking. The confident face transformed into something Liam's barely seen before. Broken, fragile, like the entire world has fallen upon Zayn's back at once and he's forced to hold it up when he can't hold himself up anyway. Sobs rack through his body and the tears fall faster, and Zayn gives up talking altogether.  
  
Liam didn't know what to say. What was there to say? Zayn knew what was going on – he was the center of it all for heaven's sake. He knew his health was deteriorating, knew it was getting worse. Liam could practically hear his heart split into two. A lump formed in his throat, and he forced it down. Crying himself wouldn't help at all; it would probably make the situation worse.  
  
The only things he could say are what he's always said before. Liam pulled Zayn closer, wrapping both arms around the sobbing boy and letting his scrubs soak with the salty tears. “Shh, it's okay. It's always okay. Don't worry your pretty little beanie about it all.”  
  
Zayn laughed a bit through his cries, but it quickly disappeared. He goes right back to it, and he couldn't control himself. He cried into Liam's shoulder, letting himself be cradled and letting Liam stroke his back comfortingly.  
  
“How do you kn-know that? You're not God, Payne,” he said, words halted.  
  
“I know that because I'm your nurse. I'm good at these types of things; I didn't get that stupid certificate for nothing,” he whispered.  
  
Zayn nodded into his chest, and Liam kept the cradling motion as he cried. They were like that for a long time, the patient letting go of his brave shell and breaking down, and Liam trying desperately not to crack himself as he helplessly watched. Zayn was a mess, a painful cancer ridden mess and Liam couldn't do a thing. He was only the nurse, he was not in control of the emotions of other people. He had learned that a long time ago, and it applied now more than ever.  
  
“What if I just gave up?” Zayn asked amidst sobs, lifting his red rimmed eyes to meet Liam's. Liam caught himself before he let out a cry himself. It was unbearable seeing him like this. He couldn't – he couldn't just say things like that. Did he know what an effect it would have on Liam?  
  
“You can't give up. I'm not letting you,” Liam argued, dragging him even closer into him and tightening the grip as if he wasn't ever going to let go. Liam was heartbroken at the words, he didn't like them one bit. He couldn't imagine if Zayn ever gave up, if he ever left Liam. It had only been two months but Liam was so attached that even the thought of it had him plunging into a pit of anguish. Which was a really big problem. “Don't ever say that again. Don't you dare.”  
  
Zayn opened his mouth to say something but was interrupted by another round of crying, shaking heavily and never seeming to stop and take a breath. Liam felt like he couldn't take this anymore. “It seems easier than this.”  
  
Liam bit his lip, closing his own eyes to keep from dissolving into tears. He had to stay strong for Zayn, but it was getting harder by the second. “D-don't. Please don't say that, Zayn. I can't ever let you give up, you've got to keep fighting. P-please-”  
  
“But why? There's no use anymore! It's all too painful, I hate it. I hate it I hate it I hate it,” he cried out, pounding a weak fist into Liam's chest as he held him. It was then that Liam started bawling as well, because he couldn't do anything about it. Nothing he said right now would change Zayn's thinking and that more than anything hurt him as well.  
  
“Please just don't say that. Please, y-you'll pull through,” Liam murmured into the fraying beanie. He was shaking himself now, both of them a crumbling weeping mess as they sat there in the stupid, stupid hospital bed.  
  
It was all so stupid. How Liam ever got himself into this situation, he didn't know. The hospital was stupid, the cancer was stupid, he was stupid for ever caring so much for a dying cancer patient, Zayn was equally stupid for ever being so nice as to let him in. He was stupid to ever pick this hospital to be treated at. His words were stupid. He was stupid for not knowing how much they hurt Liam and how much Liam wanted to take it all away and make him get better and he was stupid for not realizing how much it all killed Liam.  
  
Liam was stupid for caring so damn much. He was incredibly, terribly stupid for being the one to fall for him, the leukemia patient that was on his way to the grave and they all knew it, but neither of them said it out loud. This was not what he had expected when he first walked into the oncology ward. He did expect the death, he was warned, but nobody ever told him he would be in this much pain holding a boy who was in so much more pain than him, both mentally and physically.  
  
“What have I got to fight for?” Zayn sniffed, words muffled by the fabric of Liam's blue scrubs. He was still shaking slightly, the sobs dying down a bit and now more of intense shudders than racking caterwauls.  
  
“Y-you've got me Zayn. You've got me and your family and Josh, you've got the other three nurses too. Don't give up, please d-don't do anything like that. You've still got me...”  
  
The pair said nothing more, only holding one another as the crying died down and it was only slight shaking, the occasional whimper and Liam still rocking Zayn back and forth in a calming gesture. He didn't know how long it was until Zayn had fallen asleep, having only noticed when he was jumped out of his thoughts by the sound of slight snoring into his chest. Tear tracks stained his cheeks, but the depressed look had left his face and was replaced by a more sleepy, peaceful one of slumber. Liam was thankful that he had dozed off, thankful that they both had finally quieted. If the mood hadn't been so heartbreaking, Liam was quite sure he would be beyond excited that Zayn was curled up against him like this.  
  
The circumstances were different though, and Liam hiccuped from the crying as he ever so gently pulled the sleeping boy off of him and onto the bed. He tucked the covers around his shoulders and stood there for a moment, rubbing his face to get the tear stains off. He didn't know how he was still doing this, still taking such good care of Zayn and still watching late night television with him and still changing his IV bag every day of every other week and still performing tests and exams on him. He guessed he was still there because it was his job, this is what he was getting paid for, and the money was paying his rent. Liam just wanted so much for this to be over already, for Zayn to get better and leave and maybe Liam come with him. He wanted so much to be done with this and move onto the next patient to stay at the oncology ward, and at the same time he wanted as much for the world to freeze around them, so if anything worse happened at all they wouldn't be there to witness it.  


It's not much of a surprise when Ms. Jones passes away. Everyone in the ward saw it coming, saw her health going downhill. Repeated tests showed no results and she was, basically, a lost cause. The nurses and the doctors tried everything to help, Liam pitching in as much as he could when he wasn't with Zayn to bring her what she needed and maybe administer some chemotherapy and take her to radiation therapy. It was no use, however, and by Tuesday morning of the week after next the volunteers were wheeling her out of St. Anne's Hospital and to a cremation center, where her immediate family had chosen for her to go if death occurred. Which it did, sadly.  
  
Liam didn't cry though. He never shed a tear about poor old Nancy Jones – who wasn't even that old. She was barely 40. He just stood there, numbly, as her morning nurse recounted the events in detail and dried the tears on her cheeks. She wasn't even that sad, Liam knew. None of the nurses were supposed to be attached to their patients, it just wasn't healthy. You could be sad about it, that was natural, but not to the degree that... Liam didn't want to think about it.  
  
He wasn't sad. He was just numb. Numb as he walked down the hallway with a tray of discarded medical materials from her room, moving to throw them away in the appropriate bins. Numb as he wiped down a part of the room to help the janitors. Numb as he took care of another patient, the one who usually came after Ms. Jones but now took her place. One patient down, only three left. An elderly man named Mr. Ross, blubbering on about how Ms. Jones was such a wonderful lady and she didn't deserve to leave this earth so early. He shook his head in dismay, stating his apologies on the situation and hoping she was leading a good life up there, wherever there was in the first place. Liam nodded solemnly, a look as close to sadness as he could get on his face, and listened to him go on and on about the beauties and tragedies of life and death at such a gentle age. His words didn't help Liam at all, only numbing him more as he thought about what lay ahead of this certain death. It was a sort of a milestone, really, and made Liam realize how big of trouble he was actually in. How hard these coming few months would be for him. But he didn't want to think about that now. Not now, not ever, if he preferred.  
  
And he was still numb, the same solemn expression set in stone, as he worked on drawing Zayn's blood later that day. Zayn was quiet, staring blankly a the ceiling as Liam inserted the needle into his forearm, drawing at least two vials of blood for examination.  
  
“You might feel a little dizzy,” Liam mumbled, setting the vials on his cart and wrapping a bandage around the spot. “But that's normal.” Zayn nodded but didn't move his gaze away, presumably counting the number of cracks and trying to recognize all the shapes and pictures imprinted on the ceiling. He didn't say anything as Liam gently pulled him up into a sitting position, tugging at his frail wrist. Liam turned over his arms and checked for the red pinpricks(still very much there), pressed on his neck and underarms for swelling(tremendous amounts, it was a miracle Zayn could still talk correctly), and felt the space underneath his ribcage and asking for him to say when it got uncomfortable(very quickly). He scribbled down the results and, without thinking, mentally calculated how long Zayn would have left.  
  
He didn't even dare to go further with it. Just sat there, pencil frozen hovering above the paper, not knowing what to do. Liam's mouth hung slightly ajar, and he didn't quite know what to do at this moment. Zayn laying weakly in his hospital bed, Liam fixed in position, both clearly taking note of the other but not bothering to take the step ahead and get rid of the unwanted feelings hidden in both of their chests.  
  
“I've only got a few weeks left, don't I,” the beanie boy whispered, to no one in particular yet only for Liam. Liam bit is lip and refused to make eye contact, looking anywhere but Zayn. Anywhere but the broken boy.  
  
“Don't-”  
  
“I'm right, aren't I? This leukemia's shit and I've only got a few weeks left.” His tone had a hint of anger that Liam didn't understand, because this wasn't the nurse's fault. It wasn't, but he felt like it was, and Zayn most likely felt like it was, so it probably was his fault.  
  
“I don't know,” was all he could muster up. “A few weeks, a few months. If we keep this up, we can do it. You'll get better.” It was his usual route of comforting, the inspirational speech followed by what he hoped was a confident nod, and it was all, as usual, wasted on Zayn.  
  
“I hope so.”  
  
Liam sat in silence for a few moments again, mind blank but at the same time racing with different thoughts about Zayn, Zayn being sick and Zayn still looking quite beautiful even in this state of health and Zayn and what he might have looked like healthy. What he would look like laughing again and smiling widely again and playing around with his mates back home. What he would look like sitting on a couch – not here, but rather in a living room or something – and watching the television with his knees hugged to his chest and no tubes coming out of his chest and arms. He wondered what he looked like with his hair, the hair he had finally shown him a picture of, perfectly styled and absolutely gorgeous and -  
  
He swallowed the lump that had formed in his throat, trying to rid himself of what could be and instead focus on the here and now. The what needed to be fixed and the what needed to be done in order for that to happen. What he could do right now to make his life a little less miserable. That was what he was here for right? To help Zayn feel better, about himself or his health or whatever. That was what he was being payed to do.  
  
“Do you want to take a walk around the hospital maybe? You've barely been up in two months, it would do you some good I think,” Liam suggested quietly, finally taking the chance and eying Zayn with a questioning glance.  
  
Zayn laughed, a sort of a light laugh laced with sadness, and said, “Sure, why the hell not? I don't know if I can even still walk, though.”  
  
“I'll help you. I'll guide you every step of the way. We'll just take a gander around the floor and if you want, go down a few or up a few as well. If you want.”  
  
“Yeah, that'll be... good, I guess. I'd like that.” There was a small smile tugging at his lips, and Liam felt the pride swell up in his chest at the reaction. Maybe that really was what he needed. Just to get up and take a change from the same ceiling – even if the other ceiling was only ten more feet away him.  
  
Liam set the clipboard aside on the tray, and his thoughts trailed back to the fact that he should probably get the blood tested. It didn't seem to matter right now, though. He cared equally for Zayn's mental health and that seemed to be the big issue this second. Liam tucked a hand behind Zayn's back and lifted him from the bed, a chore that seemed harder than usual these days. He lifted the covers and flipped them to the side, taking Zayn's hand and guiding his legs into a sitting position. Zayn marveled for a moment at how pale his legs were underneath the hospital gown, it seemed like he hadn't seen them in years. He giggled halfheartedly at the stupidity of it all. It was only a small walk down the hallway to the lounge, to the snack bar to get Zayn a pudding cup if he wanted. If he could hold it down.  
  
Carefully, ever so carefully, with one hand clutching Liam's arm and the other his IV stand, Zayn shakily planted his feet on the floor raised himself off the bed. He took a small step forward, testing the waters until he deemed it safe to walk a few more feet, still grasping on for dear life to Liam. Liam's heart lifted a little, glad to be so close to Zayn and proud to be so depended on, at least for right now.  
  
“It feels weird,” Zayn said, reaching the door frame and letting go of the IV line for a second to fix the crinkles in his gown. “It shouldn't feel weird but it does.”  
  
“That's natural. Don't worry about it, you'll get used to it again.” Zayn didn't say anything as he stepped out into the hallway, glancing around at the new environment that he really only saw a couple weeks ago.  
  
“Which way to the lounge again?”  
  
“This way, although I'm not quite sure what there's to do there. It's literally just a bunch of chairs with a telly in the corner.”  
  
Zayn shrugged, not entirely caring where they went. Just as long as they went somewhere. Anywhere. Anything was okay.  
  
They shuffled down the hallway, Liam holding up Zayn more than Zayn holding up Zayn, and the beanie boy looked around, taking in his surroundings. It was fascinating to him, more than it should have been. He breathed in the antiseptic smell that permeated the hospital corridors more than it did the rooms, soaked in the mood of it all. Sad, but slightly peppier and less frantic than the ER Unit, more slowed down with the pace of the slow going patients walking by, nurses scurrying with them. A girl, barely twenty, rolled past them in a wheelchair manned by a nurse, her hair gone, but she didn't even bother to put on a hat or bandana. She chuckled and grinned at something her nurse said, that probably wasn't even remotely funny but hey, everyone needs a good laugh once in a while. Especially Zayn, Liam thought. Especially Zayn.  
  
“The hospital is weird,” Zayn said as they reached the end of the hallway and entered the lounge. Like Liam had said before, it was quite literally just a room full of old, uncomfortable chairs and a small flat screen television on one end of the room. “It's really, really weird.”  
  
Liam chuckled, the pair awkwardly standing in the middle of the room and just gazing around. Or more accurately, Liam watching Zayn as Zayn watched the only other occupant of the room, a five year old taking a nap on the old soft blue couch backed up into the corner. Her long blonde hair covered her face and Liam could tell that, as Zayn stared, he was missing his own hair. The hair was always sort of a marker for him, a marker between when things had gone from good to bad. It was also quite nice, and it was such a shame the gorgeous thing had to go.  
  
“Let's go get some pudding,” he said suddenly, turning to make his way out of the room. The girl shifted at the loud disturbance, but made no signs of waking up. Liam nodded and moved with him, and the pair were off again, steadily making their way down the hallway and to the opposite side, towards the snack room, leaving the girl behind for her slumber.  
  
They made it to the snack room in one piece, and Liam let Zayn go a bit to shuffle around in the miniscule refrigerator packed into the corner. Both were silent until Zayn's found his cup and made his way over to the generic table on the opposite side, Liam helping him ease himself into the chair to eat the chocolate and vanilla mix glop. Liam wasn't much of a pudding guy himself, scrunching up his nose in a little bit of disgust. Zayn caught it and snickered as Liam shook his head in mock disturbance. He wasn't really disturbed, didn't ever think he could be around someone as enrapturing and gorgeous as Zayn Malik.  
  
Liam couldn't think of anything to talk about, and he realized that he never learned that much about Zayn. The basics, of course, but nothing truly specific. And Zayn never really learned about him either.  
  
“What's your favorite color?” Liam asked quietly, staring down at his thumbs in his lap.  
  
Zayn looked up, a bit confused by the question. “Purple, why?”  
  
“I just thought that I don't know that much about you. And I figured, why not learn?”  
  
Zayn grinned slightly and nodded. “What's yours then?”  
  
“Blue. I'm kind of boring.”  
  
“No you're not! I like you, you're cool to hang out with. Even as, you know, my nurse,” he chuckled. “Where do you want to visit when you get the money?”  
  
“I want to go to America, see the big cities. Like, Los Angeles and New York City.”  
  
“Ooh, that sounds fun. Mind if I come with?” He said it jokingly, of course, but immediately Liam had visions of traveling the world with the beautiful boy, seeing the sights, and couldn't stop himself from blushing.  
  
“Sure. If -if you want, I guess. Um, what's your favorite song?”  
  
Zayn thought for a moment, pursing his lips and rubbing his tired eyes. Liam would have to take him back in a few minutes; Zayn was about to fall asleep at the table. “It's probably Autumn Leaves by Ed Sheeran. It has a cool message – from what I can figure out. Might be wrong, I don't know.”  
  
“What's it mean?” Liam inquired, genuinely interested.  
  
“It's about... missing someone. About missing someone you loved and kind of wanting to go back to how things were.”  
  
Liam didn't answer him right away. He thought about the song choice for a second, mulling it over. It sort of applied to this situation as well. Not that Liam was missing Zayn, but he was more preparing for the moment he would and Liam didn't really have a moment to go back to, though if he could choose he would rewind the clock and erase the stupid cancer and somehow meet Zayn when the circumstances were more loving. He liked the song, though, from what Zayn said. He would have to give it a listen sometime.  
  
“Okay, I have another question. You never told me, what's your first name, Nurse Payne?”  
  
Liam laughed, realizing that no, he idiotically hadn't. “Liam. It's Liam.”  
  
Zayn grinned wildly, pondering the name over. “I like it, it sounds nice. Liam. Lee-umm.”  
  
The pair sat for another ten minutes in the snack room, empty pudding cup pushed away from the beanie boy, and chatted about each other. Learned more things about them, trying harder than they should have to to act like normal friends, like people getting to know each other. Zayn had always wanted to be a famous musician. Liam actually also liked watching animations other than Toy Story. Zayn had been failing grades in school, which Liam expected. Liam loved the book The Fault in Our Stars by John Green, or John Green in general.  
  
After a while, Zayn's eyelids began to droop and his words slurred more and more. Liam took that at his cue to help him up from the vinyl table and guide him back to his room, clutching his arm with one hand and wrapping the other his waist to keep him steady. He gently laid the boy on his hospital bed, tucking in the sheets and affectionately tugging the beanie down to his eyebrows, just as he liked it. Liam smiled a bit, a small one barely tugging at the corners of his lips, as he watched the gentle up and down of Zayn's chest. They were so close right then, so close to being normal. Just friends without sickness and slowly falling in love like they did in romantic comedies. This wasn't a romantic comedy though, Liam knew that very well. He just wished for a moment that it was. And they could pretend, just a while.  


It comes as much less of a surprise when it finally happens than it probably should have. More shock than anything else, but that subsides quickly with the overwhelming feeling of yes, yes this is finally happening.  
  
Liam's perched in his usual spot beside Zayn, sitting on the edge of the bed, Zayn propped up against the raised back of the hospital bed. The clipboard is settled in his lap as he leaned a bit forward, feeling Zayn's throat for any swollen lymph nodes(still there, worse than ever). It's silent right then, the nurse just concentrating on taking note of everything. He pulls his fingers away, opening his mouth to say something rather unenthusiastically about how everything was going okay, when Zayn catches his fingers with his own, clutching them like a lifeline.  
  
“Wha-” but Liam's words are cut off by Zayn, doing what Liam had only imagined in his dreams. His lips were rough, worn down by the months of wasting away and terribly chapped, yet at the same time fantastically soft and gentle and everything Liam imagined they would be and more. His heart sped up, frantically trying to calm down as Zayn just kept himself there, not letting him go, and didn't let Liam breathe. He didn't do anything more, no trying to force his way into Liam's mouth or anything like that. Liam knew he was too weak for that – heck, it probably took a lot of strength to do this in the first place. Strength and confidence, for sure.  
  
Zayn moved away first, landing with a slight thump against the raised bed and sliding his fingers out of Liam's again. Immediately, he missed them, the warm sensation they held against his. He didn't look at Liam, just stared down at his hands at their place folded in his lap, a sly grin on his face. He shrugged, not moving his eyes, and said, “Just thought I'd do that before, you know, I couldn't.”  
  
Liam nods, not sure what to do. “Oh,” he replied, more to himself than the beanie boy.  
  
“I mean, if that was fine with you. Sorry if it, if it wasn't. You weren't going to do it any time soon, so I thought-”  
  
“No!” Liam realized belatedly that the word had sort of a harsh tone, and quickly corrected himself. “No, I mean, no it was fine with me.” And that was all he said, stopping before it got more awkward than it already was. Except, in some strange way, it wasn't awkward at all. It was kind of – and Liam wasn't usually the sappy type – meant to be, and it felt nice. Exceptionally nice.  
  
“Then can I...?” It took a moment for Liam to realize what Zayn meant, but nodded again as Zayn comes forward, kissing him once more, more roughly this time. His hand finds its way to the back of Liam's neck and Liam shivered from how cold they are, ignoring it because Zayn's mouth itself is so warm and inviting and everything Liam's ever wanted and more. Liam pushed back a little, softly, then harder, and the clip board slipped from his lap and clattered to the floor. Neither payed attention, however, as Liam slid his arm around Zayn's thinning waist and pulled him a bit closer. It's gentle and frail and Liam had to remember that Zayn is indeed still quite sick, and he had to be careful with this. When Zayn started trembling against Liam Liam broke away, laying him back on the bed but keeping his arm in place, so he was still sort of leaning over him.  
  
Zayn sat there, breathless, and the two just stayed in that position for a few moments, staring at each other like the other was the only piece of gold left on the entire earth.  
  
The beanie boy coughed. “I'd like to do that more a lot, if you don't mind.”  
  
Liam shook his head. “I'd like to do that more a lot, too.”  
  
And that was all that needed to be said. They had come to some sort of mutual agreement that the other liked them, without ever quite saying it out loud. Maybe they weren't exactly in a relationship, but Liam couldn't care less at the moment. The whole thing was complicated, with Zayn's stupid leukemia and the nurse patient dynamic and neither wanted to think about it. Liam just climbed into the bed besides Zayn as he turned on the television, a new episode of Criminal Minds flickering across it in the fading sunlight, and neither were squished to their respectable sides of the bed anymore, rather together in the middle, fingers entwined and occasionally sneaking not-so-secret glances at one another. Zayn was glad to finally have gotten that over with, Liam was just happy to be here, and finally know his feelings were as reciprocated as much as a half delirious cancer patient could reciprocate such feelings. And they did kiss more a lot, a few times as the hour passed and Liam had to move onto the next patient. Nothing desperate, nothing harsh, all gentle and fragile as if Zayn would break any second. He might as well be able to, anyway. And it was nice, very nice, to just be able to lay there for an hour and not think about a single thing other than that they knew someone who liked them as much as they liked the other, and how Agent Reid had never ever been as cute as the boy laying to the side of them. Nothing had to be said and nothing had to be discussed, just a pleasant whispering back and forth to each other concerning the episode or on the subject of something else entirely, like Liam's future travels or Zayn's career as a musician.  
  
It was all very, very nice and very, very surreal as well. But with beanie boy, it seemed almost everything was a bit surreal now and then.  


Nothing lasts for long, though. Soon afterward, after a few lazy days of Zayn falling asleep in Liam's arms as they watched late night Doctor Who, the fevers came back, stronger than before. Liam had suspected this would happen, as everything had been getting worse but there were no symptoms to prove it yet. And now there were, as Zayn was carefully moved out of the hospital room and into isolation, where nobody was allowed to visit besides the doctors and the nurses and the occasional family member, praying at the bedside or talking or adjusting the face mask because they were too afraid of any germs they might spread around the room.  
This room was quite a bit worse room compared to the original one, no fancy features or anything like that. A simple bed and a plastic chair in one corner, with a door leading to the bathroom and the safety chamber before entering the room, and that was it. No television, just that. Not that Zayn cared anyway. He was asleep most of the time, or going through exams and tests to see what was exactly going on with his body and trying to fix it. The whole shebang was pretty tiring, and as Zayn commented at one point: “The life of a cancer patient is a busy one.”  
  
His family came by more often than before, now that the leukemia has taken a turn for the worst. Mrs. Malik sat in the plastic chair in the corner, and Liam could practically see her try not to shake as she held back tears at the sight of her son, barely 19, lying in a hospital bed reserved for the, as the nurses called it, 'the end'. It wasn't a term Liam was especially fond of, since it implied that Zayn would truly pass away. He didn't think he was ready for that yet, even though every single person knew it was on the back of their minds. Zayn's sisters came in, too, every other day to check up on him. They stood beside his bed, dressed in the plastic yellow gowns and a face masks, and only stared, as if afraid to touch him. They might as well have been, it was understandable.  
  
Sometimes, when the siblings came around, Zayn was already awake. They would chat just like back home, and Liam loved these moments because they really did bring out a different side of Zayn. The side that used to be there at the beginning, three months ago. They talked about all sorts of things, from news back home to the latest match between Manchester United and Liverpool, to some of the most random subjects Liam had ever heard. Despite whatever bad remarks Zayn had made in the past, his entire family loved one another and they were all extremely devastated about the situation that had fallen upon them.  
  
It hadn't been long, though, until his mother and sisters(Liam never knew where the father was all this time) had been gathered into the miniscule isolation room at once, called in by the doctors that were monitoring Zayn. Liam stood next to Zayn's bed, clutching the railing, as close as he could get for what he knew was an important moment. The lead doctor, Dr. O'Malley, had delivered the terrible news earlier to him, so he knew what was coming. And he tried not to cry then and there, had to be strong for the family, had to be strong for Zayn. It was hard, though, but that was to be expected.  
  
The doctor had a solemn look on his face, eyes trained on the clipboard in his hand, as he addressed the occupants of the room. “Good evening, Mrs. Malik, Zayn's sisters. Nice of you to join us, Nurse Payne.” Liam nodded, glancing down at Zayn, who was propped up against his pillows with a suspicious expression. “I called you all here today to inform you of some terrible news. It seems Zayn's leukemia has progressed, spreading to the brain and spinal cord; essentially, the central nervous system.”  
  
“Is that... bad?” Mrs. Malik inquired quietly from her chair. Her eyes were filled with horror, gaze flickering back between the doctor and her son. “Like, how bad?”  
  
“We've run tens of tests on the situation, believe me. I've tried to come up with a number of solutions to fix it, but it seems there's no-” he paused “-nothing I can do.”  
  
The room was silent, a heavy thickness blanketing everyone and everything, as the news sunk in. The Malik sisters' jaws dropped, trying to process what Dr. O'Malley had just said. Liam felt his throat clog, the lump rising. Mrs. Malik froze in her tiny plastic chair, horrified look now resting on the doctor only.  
  
“But- but that's not possible. That can't be – no! There's got to be something, Dr. O'Malley. There's always something-”  
  
“I'm so sorry, Mrs. Malik. I am so, so deeply terribly sorry. We've done all we could, I promise you. There is one option-”  
  
“Then tell us!” she cried out, and Liam could see her eyes beginning to fill with unwanted tears.  
  
“We can try and inject the chemotherapy into his spinal cord, but at this point I'm not sure if that would suffice. I don't know if it would work, Mrs. Malik.”  
  
“But we can try, can't we? We can try, and if it does Zayn will get better, right? Zayn will be rid of this stupid leukemia.”  
  
“Mrs. Malik, that's not exactly how this works. We can inject the chemotherapy into his spinal cord, however there's only a small chance it will make an impact on his health. The tests caught the progression a little too late, I'm afraid, and there's little either radiation therapy or chemotherapy can do to help the problem.”  
  
Zayn's mom was shaking by now, trying her very hardest not to break out bawling then and there. She was furious as well, furious that the doctors hadn't caught it earlier and that they weren't doing anything to help. They've got to do something, right? That's their whole job in the first place!  
  
His sisters were crying now, weeping messes clinging to the other side of Zayn's bed. There were muffled chokes about how this couldn't be happening, that they loved him very much – more than he could ever imagine. Zayn just lay there, not moving an inch, staring at the ceiling as if it was the most interesting thing in the entire world. He said nothing, no comments on whether or not they should give the extra spinal cord chemo, although Liam knew what he was probably thinking. It was a lost cause. He knew, by now, what was really going to happen. Not that either wanted to think about it, still.  
  
Liam felt like he was gutted, the thoughts that he didn't want to think about crossing the front of his mind after what seemed like ages of putting away with them. Zayn, gone. Zayn, not here. Zayn, not existing. It was all too much. They had just broken through the barrier between them it seemed, just met each other and already, he was leaving. Liam's veins coursed with hurt, his entire body aching at the very thought of anything empty of Zayn. Of his eyes, his cute smile, his collection of knitted beanies. Eyes tearing up the slightest, Liam gripped the railing of the hospital bed harder, trying to keep a straight face and not break down in front of everyone else in the room.  
  
He wanted out suddenly, just to get away from it all and steal Zayn from the hospital and leave, go somewhere nice like Italy or Greece and leave everything behind. They could start over, start from the beginning minus the cancer, meeting instead at a quaint little coffee bar and chatting innocently over doughnuts and cups of tea, exchanging small smiles and falling in love the right way. Liam wished, oh how much he wished, that they hadn't been in this situation and everything was okay and there was no stupid, stupid spinal cord to worry about, no vomiting and nausea and bruising and mouth sores, no anything. He wanted everything to be normal. He didn't want Zayn to go. That was that.  
  
“I'm so sorry,” Dr. O'Malley said again, clutching the clipboard in his fingers and gulping audibly. “We tried all we can.”  
  
This was when Zayn spoke up. He never tore his gaze from the ceiling, only tightened his grip on the feeble hospital sheets, and asked, “How much time do I have left?”  
  
The doctor opened his mouth, then closed it again, stuck for a moment. “A few weeks, a month at most.”  
  
Zayn nodded, and Liam heard a loud cry as Mrs. Malik burst into full on tears, doubling over in her flimsy chair at the simple sentence. Liam knew that as a nurse, his duty was to go and comfort her, tell her it was going to be alright just as he had told Zayn all those times. It was his job to inform her about what exactly was going to happen, about what precautions to take in case of the event that Zayn did pass away. But all he could to was watch as a single tear slid down the beanie boy's cheek, nothing more. Zayn tore his gaze away from the cracks and the shapes and figures splattering the ceiling, and connected with Liam's for just a second, so quick one had to look hard to catch it. Liam caught it, though, and was overwhelmed with the amount of raw feeling occupying those gorgeous dark brown eyes. Pain, loss, emptiness, love, sorry, I'm so sorry, I wish this wasn't the way things were. The unspoken words slid down Liam's throat thickly and he could barely swallow them, barely take it in because that was it. This was it. That one look, that was what said it all. And Liam was completely and utterly broken, trying his hardest to stay together but the bonds were coming apart one by one, right there. Neither thought that they could handle it.  
  
The family and Dr. O'Malley cleared out a few hours later, and the room was empty when Liam came back at the end of his shift, bar the cancer ridden boy laying down at the center of it all, IV line still hanging beside him, although at this point Liam wondered if it was any use at all.  
  
Neither spoke for a few minutes as Liam just sat on the edge of the bed, holding Zayn's hands and rubbing his fingers comfortingly through the gloves he wore to keep from getting infected.  
  
“This is it.” Zayn broke the silence, gazing at Liam with sad eyes.  
  
Liam choked, bringing a hand up to his mouth and shaking his head rapidly from side to side. Zayn couldn't just say that, he couldn't say it that nonchalantly and expect Liam to be okay. Expect him not to cry or not to shout or not to yell angrily to just shut up, Zayn. This wasn't helping. Instead, he only did what any good nurse would do. “You can still make it.”  
  
Except Liam wasn't just any old nurse to Zayn anymore. He knew how both of them felt, and though he didn't know whether they were exactly in a relationship together, they were more than just a patient and his caretaker. Comforting words weren't going to cut it anymore. Liam had to face the facts with him together, they had to make it through this together. Whether or not Liam came out the other end alone. “I-I mean... I don't know what I mean.” One thing Liam had never been good at were conversations like this, especially with the ones he loved.  
  
“We're not going to see each other anymore.”  
  
“D-don't say that, Zayn. Don't say that, w-we still have tomorrow and the next day, and then you'll still be here when I come back the week after. I'll even visit during the week in between, I promise. I promise you I will. You'll still be here two weeks time, he said even to a month, and I'll see you every day of it. I promise you.”  
  
Zayn paused. “I believe you. I do, and I promise I'll be here until... then.”  
  
Liam started crying then, frantically wiping away the salty substance as it cascaded down his cheeks. Hiccuping, he noticed how scared he really was. He had only known Zayn three months, three months barely, yet he was so attached to this beautiful boy it almost seemed impossible. “I-I like you a lot, Zayn. I really do-o.” Liam silently cursed himself for being so teary, but he couldn't help it. Liam was an emotional man.  
  
Zayn nodded, the tears falling down his own face as well. He bit his lip and shut his eyes tight, tightening the grip he had on Liam's hands. Liam squeezed back, hiccuping once more and realizing belatedly that he, instead of Mrs. Malik, was now shaking.  
  
“I like you too,” Zayn repeated back, practically hissing through his teeth. “I'm going to miss you, you know? As much as a corpse can miss someone. I'm gonna miss this. I'm gonna miss watching Doctor Who with you, I'm gonna miss your voice, and I'm definitely going to miss you a-as a whole.”  
  
“I'll miss your stupid television shows, your beanies, and I'm gonna miss your optimistic words and your laugh and y-your smile and – oh god, Zayn, I don't think I can do this. What a-am I going to do without you? I've only known you for so little but I like you a lot more than I should and what am I going to do?”  
  
Zayn didn't say anything in return, shakily tugging on Liam's fingers and motioning for him to lean down, since he couldn't get up into a sitting position very well anymore. With the other hand he grasped Liam's neck and pulled him down until they connected in a soft kiss. It was gentle, fragile, just as before, but this time filled with a variety of different feelings. Hurt, loss, and an extreme want were present. Love, pain, regret, beauty, fear, and more Liam couldn't even begin to describe or recognize filled every crack and crevice and nook and cranny of Liam's being, all a bit overwhelming. It was painful and Zayn was gorgeous and Liam felt like he was being ripped apart at the very core, tears flowing faster than before and he couldn't even tell if they were Zayn's or his own. He felt the fabric of the beanie brush up against his forehead as Zayn pulled, forcing the kiss to deepen with desperation. Liam didn't even stop to think of the fact that he might get infected with fever as well, as Zayn had pushed down the face mask for this. But Liam obliged as Zayn pressed the tip of his tongue to his lips, wanting entry. He let Zayn explore his mouth roughly because, he realized, they both needed this in a way. Needed to be close, needed each other. That's what couples did in times of crisis, right? They stuck like glue and never broke away and that thought was enough to make Liam choke again, thinking that they wouldn't be the ones that would be able to stick like glue. Zayn would have to leave and Liam was on his own, replacing him with another patient and trying his altogether hardest to forget.  
  
Except he wouldn't forget. Why on earth would he forget? The last thing Liam wanted now was to forget the boy pressed up against him, the beautiful wonderful whimsical boy that whispered philosophical things when he thought no one was listening and liked to read the classics and loved science fiction television shows, for whatever reason Liam couldn't fathom. The last thing he wanted to forget was this. He had just gotten it, barely been able to hold it in his own hands, and now he was a six year old, having his favorite toy being taken forcefully away by unfair rules. Liam didn't like it one bit, and he couldn't seem to stop crying as they battled each other for dominance, just wanting and needing to taste each other and remember each other before they couldn't anymore. For a split second, Liam fell under the illusion that maybe they were okay like this, just here, and if he could stop time this was the perfect moment to stop at. But it wasn't okay, it had never been okay, and there was no such thing as a TARDIS and a paradox machine and whatever had happened in that particular episode of Doctor Who – he didn't even begin to bother remembering which one. There was no such thing as the ability to stop time, and the Doctor certainly wouldn't help with this.  
  
Zayn cried and Liam cried even an hour later, as Liam stood from the bed and bent down once more to tug the muddy brown colored beanie to the boy's eyebrows, just the way he liked it. Liam said his silent goodbyes for the night and Zayn nodded, promising with all his heart he would be there tomorrow, and at least a few weeks from now. Liam could only hope he would keep it. Not that that was exactly his choice anyway.  


The funeral was held in the morn of Tuesday one month later, at 10 pm. exactly. There weren't many people in the church, only Zayn's immediate family and some farther off relatives, Josh, a few other friends Liam didn't recognize, and Liam himself. It was a massive church despite the size of the gathering, with tall stained-glass windows, ornate wooden benches, and a stone floor that made a clicking sound when you stepped on it. Liam stood off in the corner, away from the attendants and away from the benches, watching the meeting from afar. He avoided questioning gazes as to why he was even there, most not even realizing who he was. But Zayn had asked for him to come, so he did. Liam wasn't about to break yet another promise to the boy.  
  
The casket was at the head of the pews, set atop an old pedestal with a stand of colorful carnations on either side. It was beautiful, a dark brown color like that of Zayn's own gorgeous eyes, and carved with distinct decorations covering the top and the corners. The whole thing was a bit too fancy for Liam, maybe even Zayn himself. He hadn't been much of a decoration guy, more of a simpleton. He would've disapproved, shaking his head and puckering his lips and going on about how they had already payed so much for his treatment and chemotherapy, it wasn't any use to buy such a fancy wooden box for his body to rot away in.  
  
Rot, Liam thought. That's what it would do. He would decay and fade away into the fabric of the casket until he was nothing more than a pile of bones, dusty and forgotten. He disliked that thought. Zayn wasn't one to be forgotten, wasn't one to waste away underground. He was jubilant and positive and Liam didn't think that he really would have appreciated a casket anyway, more cremation because then he wouldn't be stuck with the tree roots. He would be freed from his skin, free to roam the world and become what he wanted and do what he wanted, unlike when he was strapped to a bed by an IV line.  
  
The ceremony was open casket, as Mrs. Malik had requested. Liam didn't dare go up to it, didn't want face the truth and look at the polished body he knew would be lying in there. He wondered what beanie they had chosen for the ceremony, whether it was blue, like Zayn had asked it to be. He just stood there, in the corner, watching each member of the boy's family walk up the casket, burst into tears, and stumble away again because it was all too much. He was gone, he was gone.  
  
Soon, the actual funeral started, with a priest standing behind an all too formal looking podium and presenting a speech that led everyone to tears except Liam. The speech talked about how horrible cancer was, about how it was truly unfair that it struck such a young, strapping boy. Liam scoffed, because that definitely wasn't the speech Zayn would've given if he were here. Zayn would've chatted about positivity, about how even if it was his end he would still encourage others to go on, embrace life while they've got it and stay optimistic about future outcomes. The hardships that came out of Zayn's death were inspirational and deserved to be passed on. He wouldn't be the one to have a sad, depressing speech about how unfair this all was. Unfair wasn't the right word, it was more untimely.  
  
Untimely, since Zayn had finally had his hair dyed a bit of blonde only a week before diagnosis. Untimely, because he had been accepted into his favorite university and didn't have the chance to go. Untimely, seeing that he had arrived at the hospital the exact day Liam had his first day of the dream job, so it was the perfect opportunity to meet and fall in love and then part ways again.  
  
But the priest went on, and had them all enter prayer for practically five minutes, praying that Zayn had gotten to heaven safely and was having a blast up there, hanging out with the likes of Jesus. There was another long-winded speech by some family member that hadn't even come to the hospital to visit, discussing the cons of the situation and what would've happened if he had never been struck by the stupid leukemia, and tacking on at the end how he was so, so terribly sorry for everyone's tragic loss. Liam rolled his eyes at that one. The speaker didn't seem sorry, had barely been crying throughout the entire funeral, and certainly didn't look to be a close relative and friend to Zayn. He had probably just been asked to give it since no one else would, as far as they were concerned.  
  
Eventually, after everyone had taken the turn to talk about Zayn, besides his mother who was sobbing the entire time, there was little time before they took the casket off down the road towards the graveyard, where he would be buried forever until a tragic event tore him from the ground. Liam swiftly walked up towards the casket, the dark chocolate casket with cascading swirls on either side, and clutched the edge with squeezed shut eyes. He didn't want to see the body quite yet. Zayn was bound to look way too much like stone than he actually was.  
  
After a few moments, he peeked through a crack in one eye and stared down at the boy. Liam was right, he was too polished for his liking, for Zayn's liking. His skin was cleansed of every little scratch and every single blemish on his face. He was dressed in a blue plaid button up, with black dress pants and a nice brown belt to finish off the outfit. A blue beanie – they had listened to his pleas, Liam noticed – was washed and carefully pulled down to only the top of his forehead. Zayn's eyes were closed, mouth slightly open as usual, but it was neither a concentrated look nor a peaceful one and it just wasn't Zayn. Nothing was Zayn here, nothing was right. He was too stone-y, too frozen to be the beanie boy that first arrived in the hospital, the laughing guy that told Liam that he was alright, nothing bad was really going to happen and before he knows it, he would be out of here and heading off to uni. Liam reached over automatically and pulled down the beanie to his eyebrows, accidentally brushing the tips of his knuckles to the soft skin of Zayn's face. It didn't feel alive, didn't feel warm or natural. Instead it felt like he had died in the ocean, covered by intensely cold water and turning into petrified plastic at the bottom of the English Channel. That alone was enough to make Liam want to cry then and there.  
  
Liam just stood there for a few minutes, staring blankly down at him and ignoring the way the rest of the congregation glared at him like the nurse was un-welcomed. Who let their child's nurse come to the funeral? He was just a nurse, just the caretaker, and didn't he have other patients to attend to anyway? Liam just stood there, taking it all in that he was gone, he was gone, he was plastic now and he was gone.  
  
It was hard to think, hard to realize that tomorrow Zayn wouldn't be there to watch the next episode of Doctor Who together, wouldn't be there to kiss him while he did his check ups, wouldn't be there to hold him and for him to be held and just kind of lay there, a jumbled mess of limbs and lines in the cramped old hospital bed. Here he was, stone and void of emotion or peacefulness or that silly concentration, just void of... everything. His hand felt bitter and cold, his beanie like it was in the rinse cycle just a bit too long, and his button-up like someone had woken up extra early to iron it in preparation for this stupid, stupid funeral.  
  
He was going to miss him, Liam really was. He was going to miss their conversations, his shy smile that curled up slightly and crinkled the corners of his eyes. The way he looked like he was dreaming half the time even as he was awake, the way he changed his beanie color every week religiously, just to mix it up a little. He was going to miss the good feeling that always filled the hospital room, expanding to every single centimeter of space and curled around Liam almost in a proud manner. His eyes, the way they sparkled with exuberance and thoughts about the future and what he was planning to accomplish, the way they looked sleepy even when he was fully awake. The way he kissed, like it was the last kiss they would share and the last one really was, without it meaning to be. He was going to miss how amazing and absolutely gorgeous he was, just in general. Amazing skin and amazing cheeks and jaw and teeth and lips and oh god, Zayn was basically the epitome of perfection. That's exactly what he had been.  
  
Liam bent down over the casket, resting his elbows on the edge and leaning in close to Zayn, as if trying to see if he could reach through the body and find Zayn's soul. It had to be in there somewhere. “Do you remember when we were talking about vacations?” he asked, to no one in particular but to Zayn. “You said you'd like to come with. I planned the entire thing out, excited at the prospect of you going with me into the unknown, being my companion, if you will. We'd go to New York first, see the Empire Stare Building, then go to Florida and go to the beach, play a bit in the ocean. Wouldn't that have been fun, Zayn? I would've loved it, just there with you and enjoying ourselves. I would've bought you so many trinkets and toys from it, and we would've had a blast, I know that for a fact. Who do I go with now?”  
  
Zayn didn't answer. Of course he didn't, Liam wasn't stupid, but it really hit home then. Zayn didn't answer, no words left the new porcelain mouth, no beautiful caramel voice that sounded like he were drizzling it over a sweet dessert. No witty answer about how he would take the trip, only to make sure to make Liam promise to take him to places that neither have gone before. Not that Liam had even been to America.  
  
No Zayn. No Zayn. Not here, in the casket, not anywhere. Heck, maybe there wasn't even a heaven. Liam didn't know, but the entire thing seemed stupid right then, standing in front of a stupid casket in a crowd of stupid people he didn't know in a church he didn't even go to. Saying his goodbyes to a boy he's kissed before and a boy he would never, ever kiss again. Not to check up on his leukemia and not to ever wake up to in the morning, saying lazy morning greetings in each other's arms. What was the point of it all? Zayn wasn't here, he never would be, so why should Liam?  
  
Liam opened his mouth to say more, but choked at the last second because of unwanted tears. Zayn wouldn't have wanted him to cry, but he guessed he would anyway. Another broken promise flying out the window. “I-I'm going to miss you, Zayn. I'm going to miss you a lot, even if I only knew you for three months, and only realized I loved you for the last month alone. I'm going to miss your dumb jokes and confusing television shows and philosophical quotations from Gandhi or whatever. I'm going to miss your tired face and your lively face and the way you sleep and the way you kiss and – God, Zayn, why did you have to go? Why couldn't you have stayed, even for a little bit longer? Why the hell did you have to get cancer and why did I have to be your nurse? We could have met over coffee in a small cafe, but instead we met under the worst circumstances I have ever imagined. Dammit, Malik, why did you have to leave?”  
  
Again, no answer. Tears started making their way down Liam's face, and he furiously wiped them away before anyone in the pews noticed them.  
  
“I'm going to have to find someone else. Someone else to hold and someone else to take care of and talk to like I talked to you. I don't think I could do that, Zayn. You're the one, I really think you were.” He paused, taking in a shaky breath before realizing how goddamn idiotic he must have seemed. “Look at me, Zayn. Mumbling away to a shell of a person. You're not even here right now, you're off God knows where probably laughing at me because I don't need this, I don't need to say all this because you already know it. I already told you all those weeks ago, just so I wouldn't have to here. And now I am anyway.  
  
“You were gorgeous Zayn, absolutely gorgeous and wonderful and you had the best personality and the best comebacks – not to mention the best beanies ever knit. And I – I really do love you. Present tense because I always will, I always will love you and when I'm old and withering away I'll still be thinking of the boy who died too young, the first boy I fell in love with and he loved me back. And it was unfair, I'll tell my grandchildren how terribly unfair and untimely it all was, but I'll also tell them I still love you. And I will still miss you. Like hell, I will miss you. And I-I hope you're having fun, wherever you are. If you're still there at all. Remember me as I'll remember you, beanie boy, and we'll both be okay eventually. At least, I hope I will.”  
  
Liam took another breath and turned around from the casket again with one last longing look at the too-clean Zayn, making to leave before the procession began. He didn't want to face the long walk to the grave and the lowering of the body into the ground – because if he was still trapped in that body he didn't want to see him getting caged in dirt. The entire congregation was staring at him, he hadn't noticed them listen in on his little speech to Zayn. They had blank stares, and Mrs. Malik was crying again, one of her daughters holding her up and whispering gentle shh shh's. A little boy holding onto his mother's hand tugged at the lady's black, depressing jacket, and muttered “Who let him in here?”  
  
He ran then, ran instead of walked out of the funeral and jumped into his car before the real tears began. The real waterfall of emotion because that was it. Nobody knew him there and nobody knew Zayn and his connection, and that was okay but there was no one but him to remember it by. Liam punched his steering wheel, half sobbing and half screaming at everything that had happened and everything that will happen without the beanie boy, without Zayn. He wanted to yell, he wanted to screech at Zayn and whoever was behind this and demand he come back, demand an explanation and demand why he had chosen this specific boy to fall in love with. Why must it all be so goddamn hard? A freaking patient, that's what he was. But he was more than a patient and Liam was more than a nurse and they had had something, they really did, And now it was gone, Zayn was truly, utterly, terribly and tragically gone. In capitalized letters, the headlines of Liam's newspapers would read that for the next year if he had one. No more Zayn, lost to leukemia. Find out next issue how much pain Liam really felt, even the experts are stumped.  
  
He drove back to the hospital, still with stained cheeks and utterly black funeral outfit, to pick up some things from his locker and then make the trip home to cry on his couch and not it the car. And tomorrow was another shift and Liam would be assigned a new patient, a new adult with some kind of unfortunate cancer. Liam promised himself not to get attached this time, although he doubted he ever could again. Zayn had once occupied that bed and Liam couldn't imagine anyone else doing that like he did.  
  
And that was what really truly hurt, that Zayn wasn't back at the hospital, waiting for him to return and squish themselves back together for another round of late night television and butterfly kisses on the tip of the nose. He's gone, Liam thought, he's really really gone.  



End file.
